


Siblings

by silvertrails



Series: Tirion Arc [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: Fëanor must learn to accept his siblings.





	Siblings

**Siblings  
** By CC  
April, 2006 

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended. 

Author's notes: This story is an attempt to get into Fëanor's head and understand how he feels about his siblings. I hope it works. According to Morgoth’s Ring Finwë had five children: Fëanor (born on YT 1179), Findis, Fingolfin (born on YT 1190), Irimë, and Finarfin (born on YT 1230). There was a third daughter, but Tolkien abandoned the idea later. I am making up the birth dates for Findis and Irimë. 

Thank you to Alex for beta reading this story. =)

* * *

**Tirion, YT 1190**

It was the hour when Laurelin was blossoming in full, its golden light spilling over Tirion and beyond, making the day pleasantly warm. It was a beautiful day, but Fëanaro could not care less. He was angry and bored, and nothing was going to change the fact that he was feeling betrayed and rejected once again. 

Fëanaro was sitting on the edge of the balcony, legs dangling and hidden from view behind a huge vase. It had his mother’s favorite flowers, bell-shaped alfirin, in different shades of blue. Nothing like those star-shaped golden and white flowers Indis liked. The other terraces in the castle were full of those. It was supposed to be a day of celebration, after all. Fëanaro frowned. He would have left the castle and go watch Mahtan work, but he was certain that this would have angered his father. 

It was so unfair that he had to stay inside! He had not yet met his new brother and the brat was already being a nuisance; at least Findis had not annoyed Fëanaro until she had left the nursery. He did not like her. Findis looked simply too much like a small copy of Indis, and she would cry whenever Fëanaro scowled at her. 

If he had been older when she was born, Fëanaro would have realized that his father and Indis had joined their names in one to name her. He knew better now, and he was not going to be fooled again. The new lady of the house might be slowly taking all that had been Míriel’s, but Fëanaro was not ever going to consider her part of his family. 

"Fëanaro?" 

It was his father. Fëanaro winced inwardly. He had hoped his father would forget about him, though he had to admit that he would have felt even more miserable if this had happened. He had not felt so jealous when Findis had been born, but then he had still been Finwë’s only son. 

For a moment Fëanaro pondered leaving the castle and going to live with the smiths. Surely Mahtan would take him as an apprentice. The smith liked him, and had promised to teach Fëanaro how to work metals and stone. 

"Fëanaro, I know you are here. It is time to meet your knew brother."  
He frowned. Surely his father would find him if he escaped, and the truth was that Fëanaro would miss him. Leaving his father was not what he truly wanted to do. What Fëanaro wanted to do was ask his father what need there had been to beget another child with Indis. 

“Fëanaro. Come out. Now.” 

Fëanaro sighed and swinging his legs back inside the terrace dropped himself to the floor and came into view. He looked at his father, saying nothing and hoping that his defiance masked his uneasiness.  


Finwë looked angry, but after a moment something akin to fondness showed under the stern façade. Fëanaro was relieved, though his father’s manner was leaving him no room for defiance. He would have to go and meet the new baby. 

"Are you ready to meet your brother, Fëanaro?" 

Fëanaro shrugged, which earned him a warning look. Maybe he should be careful and not push his father too far. Still, he could not bring himself to apologize, so he looked down and waited for his father’s judgment. He heard Finwë sigh softly. 

"Come here, my son." 

Fëanaro looked up to see his father extending a hand to him. He hesitated only a moment before grudgingly going into his father's arms. Fëanaro loved his father dearly, and he missed the time when they had been alone. He did not stay in his father’s arms for long, though. He was not an elfling anymore. 

"I am ready, Papa," he said. 

"Good." Finwë smiled and placed a hand on Fëanaro's back, leading him to the nursery. 

Findis was there, and as soon as she saw their father she rushed to him with a silly grin on her face. Fëanaro would have scowled at her, but she would have started to cry and then his father would have scolded him.  
<

Finwë picked her up and Fëanaro looked away while Findis wrapped her arms around their father’s neck. He was relieved when, after a few words, Finwë gave her into the care of one of the nursemaids. He did not want to approach Indis and the new baby without his father. 

"Greetings, Lady," he said, stubbornly refusing to call her mother. He had a mother already, even if she had gone to Mandos. 

"Hello, Fëanaro," Indis said pleasantly. She was always being nice to him, even though she had to know that he did not like her at all. 

"This is your new brother, Fëanaro," his father said. 

Fëanaro nodded and forced himself to look at the baby. His new brother was asleep, and at least did not have the same golden hair as Indis. He looked silly, though. Fëanaro was about to move away when his father spoke again. 

"His name is Nolofinwë Ingoldo." 

Fëanaro swirled around to look at his father, unable to absorb the fact that the baby had been named the same as him. How could his father do this to him? He was about to demand an answer when his new brother made a noise. Fëanaro turned around to look at him and froze when the brat looked at him with his father's eyes. He felt betrayed, though he did not know whom to blame. 

Nolofinwë turned to Indis and started to cry, and Fëanaro took his chance to rush out of the nursery. He did not stop until he was outside the castle, and even then he continued running. How could his father have done this to him? He was the oldest child, Curufinwë Fëanaro! His father was giving his name to Indis’s children! 

When Fëanaro finally stopped running, he was standing in front of Mahtan's house. He had come a long way, he realized, as he struggled to catch his breath. Mahtan was nowhere to be seen but Nerdanel and her mother were sitting on the lawn, and enjoying Laurelin’s warmth. They were eating cake, Fëanaro noticed. He was suddenly hungry. They smiled at him. 

"Do you wish to see Mahtan, Fëanaro?" Nerdanel’s mother asked. 

Fëanaro nodded. He would have liked to sit with them and eat cake, but only elflings sat on the lawn. He wished he had been able to do it with his mother. 

"Papa is not here," Nerdanel said. She was looking at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. She was a strange girl, but she was not silly like Findis. 

"Do you want cake, Fëanaro?” she asked. “Mama baked it this morning. It’s good." 

"Yes, thank you," Fëanaro said, accepting the cake. 

"Mahtan will come soon," Nerdanel's mother said. "Why don't you sit with us, Fëanaro?" 

He nodded again and sat with them. Even if he was no longer an elfling, it was a lady’s request and he could not be rude. He also accepted a glass of juice. The cake tasted very good. 

They ate in quiet companionship, and Fëanaro was glad when they did not ask about his new brother. Mahtan’s house was a refuge of sorts for him, where he could forget about Indis and her children while he watched the smith work or talked to Nerdanel and her mother. It made him wonder what would have happened if his mother had not left. Maybe he would have had other siblings... but he did have them... 

Fëanaro did not know how he felt for the new baby. He was certain that he did not like that they shared the name, but that was all he could think of. He briefly wondered if this had been Indis's idea, but then realized that it was probably his father’s whim to name all his children after him. Fëanaro only realized that he had been silent for too long when Nerdanel touched his arm. 

“Papa is coming,” she said. 

Fëanaro looked up just when the lady was rising. He followed her gaze and froze. Mahtan was coming, but he was not alone. Finwë was with him! Fëanaro stood, his heart beating furiously in his chest. He had expected his father to send a servant for him, not to come himself. He suddenly wanted to leave, but he could not simply run away, could he? Nerdanel was looking at him with those knowing eyes. 

“Hello, Fëanaro,” the smith said. Finwë had stayed a few paces behind, talking to the lady. 

“Greetings, sir,” Fëanaro said, trying not to glance at his father. What would Finwë be speaking about with Mahtan’s wife? 

“I understand you came here looking for me,” Mahtan said. When Fëanaro nodded, the smith continued. “I was hoping you would come today, Fëanaro. I am going to visit Aulë’s Halls tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?” 

Fëanaro could not speak for a moment. He had never been at the Vala’s Halls before! He had been hoping to be invited some day, if he became good enough at metal work. 

“I would be honored, sir,” Fëanaro finally said. “If my father agrees,” he added hastily. He still did not know what his punishment would be for leaving the castle in rage. 

“Maybe you could ask him then?” Mahtan said. “Your father has agreed to have some cake and refreshments with us, but I need to wash and change first. There is time for you to ask him.” 

“Yes, sir,” Fëanaro agreed, glancing at his father who was coming toward them with the lady. 

“All right, then,” Mahtan said. “Nerdanel, come with us.” 

“Yes, papa,” Nerdanel said. She looked at Fëanaro once more and after gathering the remnants of their improvised feast, she left with her parents. Finwë stayed silent through all this. 

“I am sorry I left, Papa,” Fëanaro said. His father did not seem to be angry, but he did not seem to be happy either. 

“I am glad you realize you did wrong,” he said, “but Fëanaro, why did you leave?” 

Fëanaro had hoped his father would not ask this question. He still had no clear answer. Why had he left? Had it been because his brother and he shared their father’s name? Or had it been because the baby had looked so eerily similar to his father? Fëanaro knew that he resembled Míriel because his father had told him so, and Findis looked like her mother. What did it mean that his brother looked like Finwë? Was his brother going to take their father from him? 

“I didn’t like that you named him Finwë,” he said quietly, focusing on the easier answer. “That is my name, papa. I am your elder son. Why should... he have your name too?” 

“Because Nolofinwë is also my son, Fëanaro,” his father said. “Would you like it that I gave your siblings more than I give to you? It is the same for them. I have to try to be fair to all my children.” 

“But he has more already!” Fëanaro exclaimed. “They both have! They have their mother with them!” 

Finwë’s expression changed. He looked so sad that Fëanaro felt a pang of guilt. His father had looked happy at the nursery... 

“You are my elder son, Fëanaro, and you will always have a special place in my heart. I wish your mother had not left, my son, and I know how you feel about Indis. I understand that you will never be close, but Findis and Nolofinwë are your siblings. They will love you too if you allow them to come close.” 

“I don’t need their love,” Fëanaro blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Anger flashed in Finwë’s eyes, but it was gone the next moment. “I will ask you to be their elder brother, then,” he said. “They are young, and they will need help and guidance. If they ever need your help, Fëanaro, I trust you to do your duty and protect them.” 

Fëanaro bit his lip to prevent himself from angering his father again. He could do this, after all. Indis’s children were part of the family, whether he liked it or not, and he was the firstborn. He had to do his duty. 

“I promise, papa,” Fëanaro said. 

Finwë smiled. “Thank you, my son. You have always made me proud. Let us enter the house now. Mahtan and his family are waiting.” 

**Tirion, YT 1200**

Laurelin’s light was slowly fading when Fëanaro finally came back to the castle. He had been at the smiths’ quarters all day, working under Mahtan’s guidance and learning how to make copper headbands. It had been no easy task, but at last he had managed to make them right. He had even made a special one for Nerdanel, adding a very small gem that matched her eyes’ color. 

Mahtan had only raised an eyebrow when he had seen it, and ordered Fëanaro to try making copper wind spinners next. It had taken him hours to make the first, and Mahtan had said that he did not think it would spin unless Manwë decided to send a punishing wind over Tirion. Fëanaro had bitten back an angry retort and resumed his work, determined to make it right. At least Mahtan had only given him harder work and not forbidden him to make special trinkets for Nerdanel ever again. 

Fëanaro was planning to move out of the castle as soon as his father allowed it. He did not want to wait until coming of age. He already spent most of the time either exploring the lands outside Tirion or working with Mahtan in the smith’s workshop. This allowed him to spend time with Nerdanel, as she was also skilled with metal work and could be found at the workshop every day after the first mingling of the lights of the Trees. 

Those plans would have to wait, though, Fëanaro thought as he reached his bedroom. His bath was ready, as always, so he quickly got rid of his clothes and got into the warm scented water. He was going to leave Tirion shortly after the second mingling of the lights. He was planning to explore the lands near the western hills in northern Eldamar. He would tell his father about this after sharing the last meal of the day with the rest of the family. It would be a small sacrifice if it guaranteed his father’s leave for this new trip. He had never gone so far before. Hopefully Indis would not go into labor until Fëanaro had left, or his father would insist he stayed in the castle for a few days. 

Fëanaro had hoped his father and Indis would not beget more children, at least until Nolofinwë was older. The brat still needed close vigilance, as he was simply too prone to get in trouble. Fëanaro had fulfilled his promise to Finwë and protected his half-siblings whenever necessary, but taking care of his half-brother had become a full-time job lately. The only time Findis had needed Fëanaro´s help had been when she had gotten lost in the smiths’ quarters while trying to find Nolofinwë. 

It was becoming annoying. There had been relative peace in Finwë’s Halls while Nolofinwë had been small and unable to leave the castle, but once the brat had been old enough to be on his own, he had taken to following Fëanaro everywhere. The worst was that the brat had managed to charm Nerdanel enough for her to speak in his favor. She had even asked Fëanaro to be patient with him! 

He was more than patient, but Nolofinwë had the uncanny ability to get into trouble whenever Fëanaro chose to ignore him. It seemed that the brat wanted his attention. That had been Nerdanel’s explanation of Nolofinwë’s last blunder. Climbing down a cliff only because Fëanaro had said that he was too young to do it had been plain stupid. 

Fëanaro had been forced to rescue his nuisance of a brother from a precarious ledge, and to teach him how to go down cliffs with the aid of a rope. He had even carried Nolofinwë back home when the brat had fallen asleep. Fëanaro would never forget Finwë’s smile and knowing eyes when he had given the sleeping brat to him. 

He sighed as he reached for the soap and proceeded to lather his body. He did it quickly and then washed his hair, unwilling to spend more time than needed when he had so many things to do before his trip. He was about to rise and step out of the water when someone... No, not someone but Nolofinwë entered his quarters. 

“Fëanaro?” 

“What do you want?” he called harshly. “Do not come here. I will be there soon.” 

He quickly toweled his body and wrung as much moisture from his hair as possible, all the time trying to calm down and not go and strangle the nosy elf-brat for interrupting him in his own bedroom. Still angry, Fëanaro reached for a robe and stepped into his bedroom, fixing his half-brother with an angry glare. 

“How many times have I told you not to enter my rooms?” he snapped. 

“Many, but this is a special occasion,” Nolofinwë said, barely flinching at Fëanaro’s harsh tone. The brat was brave, stupidly so, but brave nonetheless. 

“Tell me what you want and be gone,” Fëanaro said, struggling to get a hold of his temper. The last time he had not listened to Nolofinwë, his half-brother had left the house to search for Finwë and tell him about some gem he had found in the garden. 

“Mama gave birth to our new sister,” Nolofinwë blurted out. 

Damn! I could swear that Indis does it on purpose! 

“All right,” he managed through clenched teeth. “You already told me. Now leave so I can get dressed.” 

“They have named her Irimë Lalwendë,” Nolofinwë recited as if he had spent some time learning the new baby’s name. 

Irimë. They had named the new baby Irimë. Fëanaro wondered if his father had tired of trying to find new ways of naming his children after him. 

“Good.” He was starting to feel cold, and since Nolofinwë was not leaving, Fëanaro turned around and reached for his breeches. Once that was done, he donned a shirt and turned back to face his brother. 

“You will come to see her, will you not?” Nolofinwë insisted, looking too much like a small copy of their father for Fëanaro’s peace of mind. 

“Why should I?” 

“Because we have a new sister, and we should all welcome her to the family.” 

“I am certain that she will feel welcomed enough if you and Findis are there,” Fëanaro said, his mood darkening. “You are her siblings, after all.” 

“And you are her elder brother.” 

“Half-brother,” Fëanaro pointed out. 

“Does it make a difference?” Nolofinwë asked. “We are all children of Finwë. Papa always says that we are all his children, and that we should look for each other.” 

Fëanaro glared at Nolofinwë, but stopped himself from pointing out that it was mostly him looking for Nolofinwë. 

“We do not share the same mother,” Fëanaro said. 

Nolofinwë opened his mouth as if to say something else, and then closed it again, looking troubled. He had only learned the truth a few years ago, and his sole reaction had been to ask if Míriel would come back some day. 

“I wish you had not lost your mother, Fëanaro,” Nolofinwë said softly. 

“She is not dead!” Fëanaro snapped. 

“I know that! Papa explained things to me. Remember?” 

“If my mother had not gone to the Halls, you would not have been born,” Fëanaro said cruelly. He was angry that his plans to leave immediately might have been thwarted, and his half-brother was the nearest target. Nolofinwë paled, but he stood his ground. 

“Is that why you are never with us?” he asked quietly. “Would you have preferred that Findis and I had never been born?” 

When Fëanaro did not answer, Nolofinwë looked down and turned around to leave. Fëanaro almost let him go. After all it was true that he would have preferred that his mother had not left, and that Indis had never come to the castle. Still, there was something in the way Nolofinwë had looked at him that was making Fëanaro feel uncomfortable. He sighed. 

“Wait! Nolo...” 

Nolofinwë stopped and turned around to look at him. Surely the brat knew that his existence would not have been possible if Míriel had not gone to the Halls, but Nolofinwë was still a child. Fëanaro was not used to feeling guilty, or to apologizing, but he had to say something to his  
half-brother. 

“Listen, Nolo, I may not be close to your mother but I would never wish any of you ill. You and Findis, and now Irimë are my... siblings.” 

Nolofinwë seemed to relax some, but he seemed to be waiting for something else. Fëanaro sighed inwardly. 

“I will leave on a trip... in two days, so I will go to Mahtan’s house tomorrow. Nerdanel’s mother will bake those cakes you like. Would you like to come with me?” 

Nolofinwë’s eyes lit. “Of course!” 

“But you must promise...” 

“I will behave.” 

“And?” 

“I will not tell anyone you said nice things about Findis.” 

“Good.” 

“Not even to Papa?” 

“Papa knows.” 

“All right then. Can I tell Mama then? I could ask her not to tell Findis...” 

I must be paying for some awful deed... 

“You could tell your mother while you help her with Irimë tomorrow.” 

Nolofinwë shook his head vigorously. “I will tell no one.” 

“Good that we understand each other.” 

Still trying to look stern, Fëanaro fixed his hair back with a metal clip. It would be better to get over with this “welcoming” so Nolofinwë would leave him at peace. 

“Come now,” he said as he placed a hand on Nolofinwë’s back. “Let us go to meet your... our new sister now.” 

**Tirion, YT 1230**

Fëanaro had not planned coming to visit his father so soon. Indis had given birth to a new son, and though he had been aware that meeting the new member of the family would be inevitable, Fëanaro had hoped to do it once all the “welcoming” fuss was over. He no longer lived in the castle, after all. He had moved out two years before coming of age, though he had been trying to leave Finwë’s Halls since he had reached forty-five. 

He had not counted on Nerdanel being so stubborn about coming. She had not even asked if he agreed but assumed he would! When Fëanaro had told her that he was too tired after a day’s work, Nerdanel had merely said that he could sleep, and that she would wait until he was rested. Fëanaro would have told her that there was no need to take family duties so seriously if he were not perfectly aware that Nerdanel actually liked his family. 

Fëanaro had finally given up and agreed to come to the castle. They had arrived at his father’s Halls when Laurelin’s light was already waning. Fëanaro had embraced his father and greeted Indis, and he had even managed to be civil and not storm out of the nursery when his father had told him that the new baby’s name was Arafinwë. Why had his father named the baby “Noble Finwë”? Wasn’t Fëanaro the noblest of Finwë’s sons? It had been bad enough that Nolo had been named “Wise Finwë” when Fëanaro was far wiser than his half-brother, but this new offense seemed to be even worse. 

“You should not feel offended,” Nerdanel said when he voiced his thoughts. They had been invited to share the last meal of the day with the family, so they had come to Miriel’s old balcony for a while. Huge vases with blue alfirin were all around, and it had calmed him some to see that nobody had dared to change this. 

“You are a crafts’ master, and you are part of the linguistic guild,” she continued. “And you are noble and strong. You have so many gifts, Fëanaro. Why need there is to resent your brothers for sharing your father’s name? Nolo loves you, and Irimë would come closer if you let her. Even Findis would. They are your family.” 

“I have no need for their love.” 

Nerdanel sighed and looked away, her eyes sad as she looked at the flowers in the nearest vase. She reached to lightly brush the silken blue petals, her lips set in a familiar stubborn gesture. Fëanaro shook his head and reached to touch her face, gently making her turn to look at him. 

“You know I would never wish ill to my siblings.” 

“But you will never admit that you actually love them, either,” she said quietly. 

“I have taken care of them, as I promised my father, and in Nolo’s case, you know that I have done more than my duty. Do not ask more from me, Nerdanel. They are Indis’s sons, and she has usurped my mother’s place in this castle.” 

“Fëanaro...” 

“I know it was my mother’s choice to go to the Halls,” he insisted, his voice gaining intensity as he spoke, “but once the Valar agreed to this new bond, my mother’s fate was also sealed. She will never be able to come back. It is unfair...” 

He stopped when Nerdanel placed her hand on his shoulder in a familiar gesture, meaning to soothe and to offer support. It was not something Fëanaro would have accepted from anyone else, for his pride was too great to admit a weakness, but it was different with Nerdanel. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. 

“I know it is unfair,” Nerdanel said softly, “and I wish I could do something about it, beloved. No elf should grow up without his mother, but you managed and you are here and your father gave you all his love.” 

Fëanaro still struggled against the reason in Nerdanel’s words. He had grown without Míriel, and he had missed the sweetness of a mother’s care. He had envied his siblings for having it while he had been forced to share his father’s love with them. He would never have admitted this to anyone, but Nerdanel knew him well. 

“He could have honored his bond with my mother,” he said. 

“He could have,” Nerdanel agreed, “but it would have been cruel to condemn him to live alone forever. None of us is perfect, beloved. Would you have preferred to see your father sad?” 

Fëanaro would have argued still, but they had discussed these issues many times and he had never been able to counter this argument. He loved his father, and he was aware that loneliness would have been hard on him. Still that did not mean that Finwë needed to fill the castle with Vanyar brats, but in the end there was nothing Fëanaro could do about it. He sighed and gathered Nerdanel close, needing her closeness. 

“Your father was happy to see you,” she said after a while. 

“He should thank you for that,” Fëanaro said, but the edge was gone from his voice. He kissed her forehead and then her lips. Hopefully nobody would come and interrupt them now. The only one bound to do it was Nolofinwë, and he had not been at the castle when they had arrived.  
Nerdanel moved closer as he deepened the kiss, answering it with barely restrained passion. To the outside world, she seemed to be a calm and quiet person, but Fëanaro knew better. He had been called a spirit of fire, unbound by nothing, but Nerdanel’s strength and passion had nearly bound him. 

“And I should thank you for this gift,” he said, reaching to gently touch her belly. “Our son.” 

Nerdanel smiled, and thankfully refrained from pointing out that it might not be a son but a daughter. Fëanaro was very sure that his firstborn would be a son. He smiled back and stroked her flushed cheeks. She looked beautiful. Fëanaro picked a few alfirin and carefully threaded the blue flowers into her reddish braids. 

“You will be a good father, Fëanaro. And our child will be loved by those close to him, and that will give him strength for any trials that might come later.” 

Fëanaro frowned. “What are you saying? What trials would come to him on Aman? He will be safe, and nobody will ever take from him what is his by birthright. He will be my son, and my heir.” 

He stopped short of snapping at her. It would have been the first time, and he had no wish to do it on account of mere words. Mothers had the gift of foresight, but it was too soon for that. 

“I only say what I have to say,” Nerdanel said, placing a hand on her belly, her eyes distant. Fëanaro was about to shake her and demand she stopped it when Nerdanel caught his hand and guided it so he felt the baby’s movements. 

“He knows that you will love and protect him,” she said warmly. “He knows, and he will always be with you, no matter what happens.” 

Fëanaro nodded and decided that Nerdanel’s strange mood might be caused by her current state. It would pass, and she would speak happier and less cryptic words when the baby was born. It was time to stop this talk and go to the dining halls. He was about to wonder out loud why they had not yet been called when he heard a polite cough. 

Nolofinwë and Irimë. 

“Greetings,” Nolofinwë said. “I am sorry you had to wait for me. The meal is ready, but Irimë wants to have a word with Nerdanel.” 

Fëanaro would have pointed out that they had waited enough, and that Irimë could talk to Nerdanel after the meal was over, but he knew better than to decide for her. Nerdanel had embraced and kissed his siblings, and was now nodding to Irimë. 

“We can talk on the way to the dining halls and help your mother and Findis. Otherwise Fëanaro will starve.” She turned around and winked at him, and was gone before he could even react to the jest. 

“Nerdanel looks happy,” Nolofinwë said. 

“Things are going well,” Fëanaro said. “As they have to be. Nothing bad will happen to her or to my son.” 

Nerdanel would not go to sleep, like Míriel had. 

Nolofinwë looked at him for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Of course nothing will happen to them. Nerdanel is strong and...” 

“Are you implying that my mother was not strong?”

Nolofinwë raised both hands. “Peace, Fëanaro. I am just trying to have a normal conversation with you. Why are you angry?” 

“I am not angry,” Fëanaro said in a low dark tone. “I will have no one speak ill of my mother.” 

“You know well it was not my intention,” Nolofinwë said, his eyes betraying a hint of irritation. 

Fëanaro would have used it as an excuse to start an argument, but was he not using Nolofinwë to vent his anger and frustration once again? He suddenly realized that he did not really want to alienate his half-brother, which was not that surprising. After all, Fëanaro had not been able to keep Nolofinwë at arm’s length before so now he was used to him. There was Nerdanel too, who liked Nolofinwë and would be upset if Fëanaro had a fight with his half-brother. 

“I know,” Fëanaro finally admitted. He almost glared at his half-brother, making it clear that this was the closest to an apology that Nolofinwë was ever going to get from him. Nolofinwë simply looked at him, and Fëanaro would have sworn that he had seen a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. 

“Have you been wandering around the weavers’ quarters again?” Fëanaro asked as they started the way to the dining halls. 

Nolofinwë flushed. “Why do you ask?” 

Fëanaro smiled, enjoying every bit of Nolofinwë’s embarrassment. His half-brother was smitten with the daughter of the head of the weavers’ guild, and Fëanaro was fairly sure that Nolofinwë was still gathering the courage to tell Anairë about his feelings. In truth, Fëanaro would never have known about this if Nerdanel had not told him. She usually visited Anairë’s house and exchanged necklaces and wind spinners for beautiful crafted tapestries. 

“I am just curious about the reason for you being late,” Fëanaro said innocently. “It is not like you to make everyone wait.” 

Nolofinwë glared at him. “Mother ordered some clothes and our sisters could not leave the house today to retrieve them.” 

Fëanaro smirked. “Ah, I see. Clothes. That explains it all. You are a most devoted brother.” 

“I fail to see why you think this is so funny.” 

Fëanaro only shook his head, which earned him a darker glare. They were standing at the entrance of the dining hall, and Nolofinwë’s glare was still in place. The voices in the hall died as everyone turned to look at them. 

Fëanaro laughed, and after a moment’s hesitation the tension eased up and the conversations started again. Finwë guided Fëanaro and Nerdanel to sit beside him. Indis was absent, probably tending to the baby. It lighted Fëanaro’s spirits further. Nolofinwë took the opposite seat, his eyes sending a silent and desperate warning. Fëanaro simply smiled at him, and then turned around to listen to a clueless Findis speak about the beautiful clothes that Anairë had brought to the house earlier.


End file.
